University of Virginia Library

16. XVI.
An Unfortunate Casualty.

NEXT morning Mr. Bodgers sent to Kitty a
pearl necklace, and very rich it was; far
prettier than one that Wilhelmina had worn the
night before.

“Cousin Phœbe, with all her airs, sha'n't turn
up her nose at little Kitty,” said the old gentleman;
and with that he took an amiable pinch of snuff,
and blew his nose quite loudly, and walked off in a
grand way.

It vexed him not a little to think of young Quid.
To be sure, he knew nothing bad of him except his
look, and his parentage. Squire Bodgers was not
the man to treat complacently such a person as Quid

senior. To pay one's debts was a part of what he
counted good character; and he professed no sort
of regard for a man who robbed legally, and paid
his dues with what he wickedly called a “damnable
civility.” He always felt a strong disposition to
cane the sleek-looking Mr. Quid, whenever he
caught sight of him picking his steps through the
streets, with his gold-headed stick, and forestalling
sneers with the most profound obsequiousness.

If he had only suspected—what I must confess I
had suspected for a long time—that Quid's late
wife, and the mother of the dashing lad, who
showed such annoying attentions the evening before,
was perhaps a blood relation of himself (although a
woman of uncertain character), I think his disposition
to cane the widower would have been much
stronger than it was.

It is certain he would not have left his Will so
long unsigned in the pigeon-hole of his desk.

However, Mr. Bodgers returned to Newtown,
quarrelled (amiably) with the foreman of his tan-works,
scolded his house-keeper, and indulged in a
hundred of those bachelor vexations which are so
natural to men of his age and condition; and
finally, one bright morning (it was spring weather),
stepped around to Mr. Bivins' office to execute his
Will.

Mr. Bivins was out; but Harry Flint, who had
not yet arranged the leave-taking, at which I have
hinted—and who, I am bound to say, had grown
somewhat sallow and melancholy—occupied the
office.

Squire Bodgers, who always went straight to his
mark, and entertained (honest man that he was) a
considerable contempt for legal talk and forms,
wished to sign a paper. Mr. Flint was as good a
witness as Mr. Bivins: and although two might
have been better than one, one was better than none.

“Give us a pen, Harry,” said the Squire.

And the pen was brought; and the Squire, with
a very tremulous hand (for his arm was still lame),
wrote “Truman Bodgers.”

“It is my Will,” said he. “Witness it, Harry.”

Harry witnessed it without a word; for he
thought still of the marriage settlements, and
wished (almost) that the excellent Mr. Truman was
in the other world. And he noticed with his lawyer's
eye that the Squire's lame arm had executed
a signature without his usual flourish.

“Give us your hand, Harry,” said the Squire.
“They tell me you are off?”

“Off to-morrow, sir,” said Harry, “for California.”

“God bless me! so far?” said the Squire.

“Well, be honest; stick to work; you're young,
Harry, very young.”

I think Mr. Bodgers sighed, as he marched home.

Three days after, he set off for town. His
village was three or four miles from the river, and
he drove down leisurely, taking little notice of a
road which he passed over so often, and which he
would probably pass over a great many times again.
The people who lived there, his neighbors, bade him
good morning, and said to themselves carelessly,
“So the Squire is going to town.”

The widow Fleming saw him, and called after
him to “give her love to Kitty.”

“That I will,” said the Squire, and chuckled,
when he thought that he would give his own too.

“I wish I was a trifle younger,” says Mr. Bodgers
to himself.

“Young enough,” says Duty, silently (as Duty
always talks when she talks loudest), “young
enough to do good.”

Mr. Bodgers could not say nay, so he whipped
on, and at the landing he took the fast boat. It is
a sad American cure for neglected duty, or for lagging
charity, to get over the ground, or the water,
fast. When we feel the spur of conscience, we
stick the spur in our horse, and the glow of haste
we take for the flush of fulfilment. In our hurry

and scurry, the nerves grow dead; when the inner
monitor asks what victories we have won, we point
only to the wide space we have gone over. But
there is coming a time to us all, when the distance
that a life has made good will be measured, not by
miles or by hundreds of them, but by the worthiness
of deeds.

“Fudge!” you say. And the word brings me
back to my story.

Mr. Bodgers took the Eclipse, being a faster
boat than the Rapid. Yet the Rapid had made
good time that day, and the boats were nearly
abreast at the dock.

“We shall beat her twenty minutes into New
York,” said the captain, looking at his watch; and
he went below to the fire-room.

Mr. Bodgers, although a cautious man (we are all
cautious in our way), regarded the race with considerable
interest. It was hinted, indeed, by some
timid people, that there might be danger, and that
it was “an abominable risk;” but nobody, save
some few nervous ladies, were disturbed by such a
hint as that. Once, indeed, there was a slight
crash, which created some uneasiness; but it proved
to be only the result of a playful manœuvre on the
part of the pilot, who had dexterously run the bow
of the Eclipse into the guards of the other boat,

crushing a few timbers, and exciting quite a laugh
among the loungers on the forward deck.

Mr. Bodgers thought such management improper,
and said as much to Mr. Blimmer, whom he
accidentally found on board, and whom he had
occasionally met at the house of the widow Fudge.
Mr. Blimmer, however, smiled sagaciously, and
remarked in his usual voluble tones, that “We are
a go-ahead people, a great people, Mr. Bodgers:
boating, railroading, telegraphing, towns springing
up in a day; wonderful people, sir. We shall be
in town, sir, by five; think of that, sir! Eighteen
miles in the hour, sir, against tide!”

Mr. Blimmer had found it for his interest to take
stock in the Eclipse, as proprietor of Blimmersville.
His card, with a diagram of the place, was hanging
in the captain's office. The clerk was instructed to
ask strangers if they had visited the pretty town of
Blimmersville; and the steward had entered upon
his bill of fare, “Blimmersville pudding.” It was a
dear pudding.

Mr. Blimmer assured Mr. Bodgers that there
were a “few remaining lots at Blimmersville, which
offered a capital chance for speculation; highly
eligible lots, purposely reserved for men of standing
and influence.”

“Lots which sold at five dollars the foot, are

now selling, Squire, at fifteen. We have a capital
grocer in the place, and (what is rare) an honest
one. There are but a very few inferior or unhealthy
locations, as the physician assures us, upon the property.
These we have kept in reserve for public
uses, either a parsonage, or infant school, or something
of that kind.”

Mr. Bodgers took snuff—a strong pinch.

Mr. Blimmer drew out his chart. He designated
the favorable “locations.” “This was for the
church—Gothic, with four spires, one at each corner,
bell in the tower; arrangements nearly matured
with a city clergyman, a man of genteel connections,
and well calculated to give respectablity to the
village.”

The Eclipse gained upon the Rapid, much to the
satisfaction of the company upon the forward deck,
who gave vent to their satisfaction by a subdued
cheer.

Mr. Blimmer proceeded with his details, to the
evident annoyance of Mr. Bodgers. “What do
you think of the matter, Squire?” says Mr. Blimmer,
confidently.

“I think, Blimmer, that it's an infernal humbugging
business, from the parsonage down, and I'll
have nothing to do with the matter.” And he
tapped his snuff-box vigorously.

I think Mr. Blimmer would have resented this,
in his voluble way, if some timid ladies, frightened
by the increased speed and heat, and the unusual
creaking of the boat, had not implored the gentlemen
to intercede with the captain.

“Pho, pho!” said Mr. Blimmer; “staunch
boat; good captain; all right.”

Mr. Bodgers, however, to whom it seemed that
the press of steam was unusual, walked forward
to drop a word to the engineer.

“We know what we are about, old fellow,” said
the engineer.

Presently—it could hardly have been ten minutes
later—they said, somebody cried out that the boat
was on fire. And to be sure, a little black smoke
was coming out from the door of the fire-room.

“Pho, pho!” said Mr. Blimmer, folding up his
chart, “it's nothing at all.”

But soon there was blaze, as well as smoke; and
a few of the people rushed forward, very fortunately,
as it proved. But the greater part were
calling out for the captain, or trying to calm the
women, who were now screaming with fright.
Nobody, however, seemed to know where the
captain was; even Mr. Blimmer thought it “quite
extraordinary,” and said “they would run her
ashore directly.”

Still the boat headed down the river, the Rapid
being now far behind; the pilot and engineers
probably not being greatly incommoded by the
flames, which now swept through the pass-ways on
either side of the engine.

Mr. Bodgers, not losing his coolness as yet,
took Blimmer by the arm (and it shows how
common danger levels all anger and strife), “Blimmer,”
said he, “this may be a bad business; I
accuse nobody, though the captain ought to be
hung, if a soul dies. I have got a valuable paper
in my pocket; it is my last will and testament;
I don't know if it is altogether in legal form—but
it is what I wish; I shall hand it to you; if I get
to shore, I can renew it; if not (and the old
gentleman did not tremble), it will be safe with
you.” And he handed him his will.

Blimmer put it in his coat-pocket.

By this time—for the time counted by minutes
now, and the alarm was general—the ladies were
well-nigh in a state of frenzy, and the boat was
headed to the shore. Even Blimmer was in a state
of nervous inquietude. The flames crackled and
roared loudly; and there were hoarse orders
screamed out now and then from beyond the
smoke; but nobody seemed to know who gave
them, or what they were. Indeed, the cries of the

women were so loud in the after-part of the vessel,
that it was impossible almost to distinguish any
words at all.

A few persons in the inner cabin were praying
for God to save them. Very likely, they were
those who never asked Him for anything before.

One or two men, driven by frenzy no doubt, had
thrown themselves overboard, from the forward
deck; and came drifting by swiftly; and floated
far off behind, where the sun seemed to lie very
warmly on the water; but except they were good
swimmers, which, saving one, they were not, they
went down.

A poor little fellow of ten years old, or thereabout,
came to Mr. Bodgers, and took his arm
beseechingly. “Will you save me, Sir?” said he,
“for my father is not here.”

“God save you, my boy!” said Mr. Bodgers;
“for no one else can.”

At this, the boy cried; and Mr. Bodgers led
him aft, and lashed him as well as he could, for his
lame arm (the boy remembers him well), to a
settee, and dropped him overboard; and he was
picked up by a skiff half an hour after.

While this was passing, the boat was gaining the
land, though the flames were spreading; and soon,
just as the people were rushing up the stairway

upon the hurricane-deck, the boat drove upon the
shore. The shock threw many off their feet, and
into the water.

Those who were upon the forward-deck, the
captain and pilot and engineers among them (who
had taken great care to be in a safe place), jumped
ashore.

But for those in the after-part of the vessel, the
danger was not yet over. The stern was swinging
out two hundred feet or more from the land, and
the water had good depth—some twenty feet, or
perhaps more than that. A little strip of the
upper-deck still remained good, though those who
passed over it were compelled to pass through a
wall of smoke and flame. A few adventurous ones,
Mr. Blimmer among them, crossed over, and threw
themselves from the bow upon the shore; or at the
worst, into very shallow water.

The women with their light dresses could never
venture upon that passage through the flame.
Indeed, the deck, which was but fragile, was even
now yielding, and swaying with the fires below.
Mr. Bodgers went forward, to cross; but had the
failing bridge yielded with him, lame as he was,
it would have brought an awful death. And even
while he hesitated, what remained of the upper
deck about the engine fell with a crash; and the

blinding smoke and cinders drove him back to the
extreme after-part of the vessel.

The scene was very terrible around him. Some
few upon the shore, who had struggled through the
water, were shivering with cold, and beckoning
to those on board which way they had best go.
And four or five noble fellows (among them a man
who was honored before, and who is doubly honored
now[1] ) were struggling to save the helpless females,
who, driven by the flames, dropped themselves into
the river.

And those who had thrown themselves overboard
were contending not only with the waves,
but fiercely struggling with each other, like beasts.
For fear had maddened them.

Mr. Bodgers turned his eyes from this. But
there was no escaping the sight of Death: and one
time or other, it will be the same for us all. Death
was everywhere around him, crying to him—
gurgling in his ears—staring at him with fixed eyes
clutching him with cold fingers—dragging him
under!

There was indeed one more chance left. If he
could work his way around by that narrow edge of
the guard, which projects about a hand's breath
from the wheel-house, he might yet save himself.

For the flames had not fairly broken through the
outer covering of the wheel; or at most, only burst
here and there through the cracks of the wood.
Now and then, it is true, the wind drove the flame
and smoke over the wheel, so that they reached the
water; but as it was the only chance, the old gentleman
(praying, I doubt not, silently) ventured
upon this narrow footway.

Mr. Blimmer, who had escaped, and retired for a
while to the hill above the river, lest the boiler
might explode, had come back now to the shore;
and espying Mr. Bodgers, shouted to him, very
charitably, to come on, and gain the forward
guards, and so leap to the land, as he had done.

The old gentleman had but one arm with which
to cling, and the path was narrow; beside, the
flames, as I said, were shooting through the cracks
of the wood, and becoming stronger every moment.
But he went on bravely, his feet taking hold
strongly of the little rib of timber, until he had
half gone by the wheel; but here, unfortunately, a
sudden whiff of the wind brought over from the
other side a great cloud of smoke and flame, which
burned his hair and his hands; and presently, so
suffocated him, that he could keep his hold no
longer; and he dropped heavily into the river.

Even now there was a chance for him; for the

land was only a hundred feet away, and he had
been a strong swimmer in his time. But the weak
arm crippled his strength; and one or two who
were struggling in the water laid hold of him. A
sloop's boat, which a noble fellow from the shore (I
think he was a coachman) had manned, was going
toward him, as he came up; and as he saw it
coming, he struggled fiercely to shake off those who
were holding upon him.

But before the boat came, his strength gave out;
and with two persons clinging fast to him, in the
sight of at least a hundred lookers-on, and under
the warm spring sun (it was mid-afternoon of April),
he went down—for ever!

“Pity!” said Mr. Blimmer.

As the evening wore on, and all the strugglers
upon the wreck had fallen off, or were burned, they
commenced dragging up the bodies from the river.
Among others, they drew up the body of Mr.
Bodgers, looking very ghastly, as the bodies of the
drowned do always. No more fever, or vexation, or
trouble of any sort, for the Squire! It was over.

(As for Mr. Blimmer, at ten o'clock—later by
five hours than he had reckoned—he was in town;
looking out for the interests of the owners, with the
will of Mr. Bodgers in his pocket.)

And finally deep night fell; while the smoking

embers threw a glare along the shore, and lighted
the faces of the drowned ones, lying high upon the
beach. And the engine, upon the railway track
near by, passed to and fro the livelong night;
shrieking as it came near to the scene of the wreck;
and bringing mourners.

And the moon stole up softly into the sky overhead;
and the waves rose and fell with the changing
tide, murmuring pleasantly, as they always do.
But there were none to note these things; for
Death, in company with the owners and the captain
of the boat, had wrought a damnable work there!

We Americans live fast. It is all over now—the
sorrow, and the crime.